Perfect In Her Own Right
by raindrop13
Summary: Draco/Astoria: Their first meetings


**(A/N: I changed a few things. Firstly, Daphne and Astoria aren't twins, but they're in the same year. Secondly, Draco doesn't date exclusively w/ Pansy Parkinson. Thirdly, Astoria and Hermione are friends, because I want Astoria to be smart and I don't want the trio to be **_**quite **_**as prejudiced. Fourthly, I **_**know **_**that Draco gets Harry and the Weasley twins banned in their fifth year, but don't you think it's much more effective conflict in their fourth for the purposes of my story? Thanks! I don't own Harry Potter or anything you recognize; that's J.K. Rowling.)**

She wasn't special.

She was smart, smarter than anyone knew, and she'd gotten all O's on her OWLS. She was pretty, with long chestnut hair that fell in shiny waves, or sometimes ringlets down her back and dark brown eyes to match. She was graceful and strong, and people stared at her when she walked past.

But Daphne was better.

Daphne was a genius who got all O's on her NEWTs, and everyone knew it. Daphne was gorgeous with a beautiful figure, jet black straight hair that shone enough to blind a person, and clear blue eyes. Daphne wasn't just graceful and strong; she was cold, like an ideal little Slytherin ought to be, and she _floated_ when she walked. People gaped openly when Daphne walked past.

Astoria was okay. Her father could have loved her; she wouldn't have been as favored as Daphne, but he could've loved her. But Astoria was weak. She felt empathy and sympathy. She understood how it felt when she walked in on someone crying. Daphne laughed coldly, scoffing and walking away. Astoria bent down and held the person, comforting them until they smiled.

Her mother had loved her, but her mother was gone, vanished into the swirling mists of death.

She had a tawny owl, with big brown eyes, that liked to perch on her shoulder and nuzzle her jaw. Daphne had a big white owl, with blue eyes, which did exactly as it was told, exactly what was expected of it, and no more.

She thought herself worthless. She first doubted that in fourth year, when they'd met.

She'd been alone in the library, reading a book. She hoped to bring up her grades, to show that she could be as good as Daphne, when she remembered that was impossible, and hoped only to bring up her grades. Draco had sat down next to her, watching her for a moment before she looked up.

"What do you need, Draco?" she asked patiently, sure that he wanted something from her, and willing to give him almost anything. "A date with you would be nice. Attend the next Hogsmeade trip with me?" he asked and she stared. Had he mistaken her for Daphne? That was impossible, she wasn't nearly good enough. Maybe he was using her then. "Why?" she asked and Draco frowned. "Because I asked you." She shook her head. "No. Why would you ask me? Why not ask Daphne?" she asked, because that's what everyone always did.

"Because you seem… different. Daphne does whatever other people want. I don't want that." He said, confused, apparently, but not half as bewildered as she was.

The trip went without a hitch.

The second time they met, Astoria was in the common room. The rest of the school was on a trip to Hogsmeade, excluding the first and second years, but she had decided to stay behind. She didn't have anything to do there, and she rather liked the quiet of the place when most of the people were gone. She was sitting there, reading a well-worn copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them when Draco walked in.

His first thought was on how pretty she looked, with her wavy hair spiraling down her shoulders. She was wearing a navy blue tank top and khaki cargo pants, but no shoes, revealing perfectly pedicured toes, painted to match her shirt. Her arms were long and slender and muscular (no doubt from all that work in the library where she volunteered) but they were pale, and he noted that her nails were short and unpainted, though they were neat.

Her first thought was roughly "what the bloody hell is _Draco Malfoy_ doing here on a Hogsmeade weekend?" He'd sat down in a chair across from her, where she lay sprawling on the couch, one leg hooked over its back, the other lying in front of her, with her back leaning against the side arm.

She then noticed the dark circles under his eyes and asked "Late night?" to which he only nodded. She grinned. "There wouldn't be any _girls_ involved, would there Draco?" He glared at her, but the scowl vanished when she laughed. She closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose ever so slightly, her curls bobbing just a bit. It was the most beautiful, melodic sound he'd ever heard.

"Not unless you include listening to Pansy argue about being exclusive. I swear, that girl." He shook his head, bewildered. She grinned. So he wasn't exclusive, eh? She could use that.

"Pansy hardly seems the name for her. Maybe Pugsy." She murmured, mostly to herself, but happy to see Draco grin. Not smirk, actually smile.

The third time they met was less than pleasant. Draco had just insulted Lily Potter, he had been 'attacked' and the Weasley twins as well as Harry Potter had been banned from playing quidditch. He'd thought he'd done well. Until he saw Astoria.

She was alone, as usual. She didn't have many friends, but he knew that she knew more about the people at Hogwarts than anyone else. She was always there, watching, listening.

She was glaring at him now, before turning abruptly away. He'd followed, and grabbed her elbow, spinning him around in the deserted corridor.

"Hey, what's your problem?" He asked. Why was she mad at him? "Do you think it's _funny_ to hurt people, _Malfoy_? Do you think that mocking Harry's mom was _funny_? Would you have mocked _my_ mother?" She growled, wrenching her arm from his hand before racing off with tears in her eyes. It was only later that he heard of the late Mrs. Greengrass.

The fourth time they met was hardly a meeting. He'd stared as she jumped up and down in front of Harry, who was grinning at her. He shot a glare at them, just as Astoria saw him, and had turned away before they made eye contact.

The fifth time they met, he was enchanted. He'd brought _Pansy Parkinson_ of all people to the Yule ball, a move he was greatly regretting. She was barking (the only thing he could think about her chatter, after Astoria's Pugsy comment) and he'd spotted her. She was walking in next to Harry, though he'd come with someone else, and he felt jealous. He, _Draco Malfoy_, was illogically jealous of _Harry bloody Potter_ because a girl was _walking_ next to him.

Her dress and shall were pink –_pink _– but he couldn't say he didn't prefer the look of it to Pansy's green and silver. How unusual, Astoria was. Her dress was strapless with a flat neckline. The neckline was lined with rhinestones for about two inches. At the hip the dress fell into flowing ruffled skirts that hid her feet. When she lifted the skirt, however, he could see matching flats. She was beautiful, he had to admit it, at least to himself. **(A/N: Her outfit/hair can be viewed at .) **

She wasn't wearing much makeup, only some pale pink lip-gloss against her lips and a stroke of blush just under her cheekbones. Her dark hair was put up in a messy bun, some of it sweeping against her pale face and shoulders. She wore a silver chain across her neck, a tiny locket hanging from it. The locket was elliptical and it looked like it was amber, with something inside it, but he couldn't see what. He noticed she wore a ring, a silver ring with a pink diamond inlaid. He wondered why; for a brief moment he thought her to be engaged before he recalled that she was only fourteen, and much too young.

He watched as she danced with several boys, graceful and confident, before retiring to one of the long tables set out for eating or resting. He excused himself and walked over to sit next to her. He noticed that the locket was in fact cameo, and that it had a tiny cream rose just off center. She looked up at him, frustrated, and said in a not-so-welcoming voice "Malfoy. What are you doing here?" Draco grinned at the acid leaking into her tone. "I'm resting of course, and carrying on conversation with a very pretty young lady." She glared. "What do you want?" He frowned at this. "Do I need to want something?" he asked, rather upset by this transaction. "People like you don't do anything unless they get something out of it; something they want. Trust me, I know, my entire life is lived by cause and effect, how one action will affect my future, and so on." She said coldly.

"Well, I want a dance with you." Said the boy uncertainly. No girl had ever talked to him in such an uncaring manner. "You've brought Pansy here. Go dance with _her_." And Astoria Greengrass rose from her seat and went to dance with one of the Weasley twins.

The seventh time they met, Draco was having none of the previous nonsense. He knew that he cared for this girl, this bewildering, crazy, rather sadistic girl, and he wanted her to know that. He just wasn't sure how to tell her.

So when he saw her walk into the girl's washroom (the abandoned one, the one with that whiny ghost) he knew he had to talk to her. When he walked in, he saw he leaning against the wall, reading. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps and openly gaped. "Wh-What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she stuttered in surprise. "The same could be said for you." He murmured, drinking in her appearance. She was stunning. "No, actually. This is a girls washroom. I'm a girl. Consequently…" she trailed off pointedly. He shrugged.

"I wanted to talk to you" he said.  
"About what?" she murmured. He sat down in front of her, cross-legged.

"Us." He said, meeting her eyes evenly.

"What us? There is no 'us'. There's been no 'us' since you cruelly insulted Harry's _dead mother_." She growled harshly, and he flinched.

"I'm sorry. If I could take it back I would. I mean… I don't know how it feels, losing a parent, but I hate him, and I know that's no excuse but…" he looked up at her and was surprised to see the following events.

She put her book at her side and sat in his lap before pressing her lips to his gently. "What. Was. That?" He stumbled when she pulled away. It had been wonderfully terrifying, sweet, and just about as heart-racing as anything he'd ever felt before.

"That was a kiss. Thank you." She said, leaning against him and laying her head on his shoulder. "What for?" he asked, still bewildered. Her hair felt ridiculously good against his skin, tickling his neck. "For being the person I thought you were. For letting me trust myself again. For not being an arse. All of the above." She murmured. He grinned. "Who did you think I was?" he asked, ducking his head so he could see her face. "The man who came into the girl's washroom to apologize. The man I kissed." She said quietly, letting it sink in.

He blinked. Smiling, he pulled her up, lifting her chin to meet her lips with his.

It didn't occur to her to count their meetings. She didn't consider such things important. He did. He counted each and every one.


End file.
